The Girl Who Cried Wolf

In front of an old wooden house a young girl stood. Goose bumps prickled on her forearms. The girl's eyes are dark and emotionless as she stares through the open door. The sky was dyed a washed out gray and the wind was gentle and sad. A couple tall faceless men carried out stained white stretchers. There are only two men, with their faces darkened by the lack of sunshine; so it takes two trips to haul the two bodies out. The first body is slender and has long flowing golden blonde hair. Her closed eyes were still wet with tears. The girl knew that behind those sickly pale eyelids were one of two pairs of the darkest brown eyes anyone had ever saw. The second body was larger. His callused hands were clenched in tight fists. Like he was still fighting against death. His hair is long, dark gray and stuck to the curve of his neck in fresh sweat. The men loaded them into the back of a horse-drawn wagon, usually used for lumber. A doctor emerged from the darkness of the house behind them. He is wrinkled with age and shaking his head in grief. That week he had seen more deaths in such a streak than ever in his profession. The plague had entered the tiny village silently. The first day, eight dead, and it didn't take long to connect the deaths with the illness. The only thing that could be done, was keep the healthy away from the sick and pray for an end to the distress. The disease was fast acting. If somebody was infected they were expected to be dead the following day. Now it was over, all that were sick are now dead. The final victims were the man and woman who were towed away from the place the girl on the road had once called home. The girl tucked her dark hair, the color of rich soil, behind her ear and made her way towards Catherine's Orphanage. Newly formed after the plague. Her new home.
~*~
She thought someone could be calling her name. A voice in the wind moaning and sighing, "Rhea...Rhea..." Nobody would call out to her though. Not in this village. Not anymore. She stands on a rocky cliff, below is a dirt path leading down the hill into the village. She can probably count every house huddled together like a pack of scared children. Home is right smack in the middle of a circle. With the river and forest the outline of it, and the inside made up of pastures and fields. Rhea kicks at the rocks watching the gray stones invade the path below. Then she turns and trots into the depths of the bordering forest. It's spring but the forest looks no different except for the absence of snow. It's made up with evergreens, the smell of needles infect the air within a 50 foot radius. Just skimming the edges of the houses south of it. Leaving and entering are two very distinct smells. Inside the village smells of wood, almost rotting off every house and hay, that covers the streets in a thick blanket.

The birds chirp cheerfully. Like their lives can't possibly get any better. Rhea hates them for that. She sits in a space surrounded by tall pines, evenly space, with thick trunks and low branches. She takes this time to remove the wall that keeps her inside a secret. A great weight comes off her shoulders and she sighs in relief. Relief that goes away within seconds when she hears it. The silence of the happy birds, the sound of her heavy breathing, and then a grumble of pain nearby. She doesn't have time to build up that wall before curiosity and fear send her up a tree. She scans the spaces in between the trees below. What she sees is clearly not meant for her eyes.

A large chestnut colored wolf hunched forward and wailing in pain as a sickly transformation takes place. It's thick fur parts revealing pink raw skin underneath. Skin that has been sandpapered down to the point where blood threatens to pour out with the slightest touch. Rhea is tempted to cover her ears from the revolting crack and grind of bones shifting against each other. Soon the body isn't of a wolf but that of a naked young man. Screaming in agony on the needle covered forest floor. A place where the trees concealed both sound and image of this horrific event. Now the only thing that proved to Rhea that what she saw actually happened is the wriggling of the man's spine setting place, like a large snake trapped and angry underneath his skin.
~*~
He should have sensed the presence. Heard the flutter of her heart. The tremble across her skin. All he could think of was the shrilling pain that coursed through his body and by that time it had been too late. It wasn't till his screams muted into soft whimpers that he realized he wasn't alone. With human ears he can barely hear the girl's pulse or breathing over his own. He can however, hear the crack of a branch, and a gasp of either surprise or terror. He snaps his head to the side, the pain already fading, and caught her fear soaked eyes for a second before she turns and bolts toward the village. Those eyes, the color that matched her hair. Rich soil, almost black but not quite. "Rhea..." he whispers.
~*~
Rhea was swallowed by the shelter of the village quickly. Weaving into the spaces between the houses. In a matter of seconds she stands in a rare clearing, surrounded by food stands with fresh vegetables and clothing stands a new addition to the village square in the last decade. It was meant for the families who lost their wives and mothers to the disease 10 years ago. Women are the members of the community that do the safer jobs of less muscle. Sewing, mending shops, raising children, cooking and teaching are reserved for the females of the population. While men are expected to work in fields, handled livestock, cut wood, and hunt from time to time.

Rhea climbs onto a large wooden crate, preparing to warn the people of what she saw in the woods. Now the villagers did not speak to Rhea much. In fact, they were just waiting for the day that she would no longer be sane. Most villagers, were really afraid of her because of the coldness she always showed them. Rhea knows this for the most part, but also knows what her father always taught her. Protect. Even if your uncertain that the dangerous is real. So she gathers her courage, and shouts over the chatter in the square, "There's a creature in the forest!" A short man with silver hair and bright blue eyes took attention to her right away.
"What kind of creature?" He asks in a thundering voice. The rest of the chattering seized.
"A wolf, but not like any I've seen before. It was huge and turned into a man!" Rhea shouts frantically. Splitting her composed image into shreds. The silence continues, as she watches her neighbor's eyes widen with disbelief.

"She has finally snapped." A voice murmurs somewhere in the crowd.
"Gone." Another agrees.
A woman by the name of Eve Westerly speaks out loudly. "I've been waiting for this day. That's Rhea Kinsley, both her parents died from that illness and she didn't even shed a tear for them. Acted like her same old self. No sane person wouldn't be in grief after something like that. Especially a child."
She definitely got to them. More voices rise from the crowd.
"She could be dangerous! Think of the children!" Eve adds.
Rhea turns on her heel and leaps from the crate. Running from the judging eyes and grabbing of hands.
"Get her!"
"Lock her up!"
She has to get home before the news of her insanity spread like wildfire to every corner. She doesn't know where to go after that, but she knows she can't stay for long.
~*~
He got to the Orphanage first. Hoping that she would be kind enough to spare his secret if he explained his desperation to her. They have known each other for so long. He has confidence to call her a friend, if she is able to have one. An admired friend at that. When he reaches her room he hesitates before knocking. What if she hates him now? She is more courageous than even men her age, so certainly she isn't afraid. What if she is disgusted of him though? He rakes his dirt covered fingers into his thick chestnut hair. Pulling it away from his eyes for a moment before it lazily falls back in front of his eyes. He raises his fist at a second attempt at a knock. Just then, he is flattened against the door harshly.
"Sorry..." she mumbles. There Rhea sat. Slightly disoriented from the fall.

"Rhea..." he says, testing the words in his mouth before he continued. She looks up at him, with those dark eyes that take so much effort to tell emotion. Right away he sees the fear, but only for a moment before she composes herself and the emotion washes away. He searches her eyes for something more, but there is nothing that shows she knew it was him in the forest. However, Rhea is a very difficult person to read.
"What's the matter?" he asks carefully, and offers his hand to her.
"I have to leave," she replies slowly while she gets up, refusing his outstretched hand.

"Why?" he asks, suddenly very afraid it's his fault. Rhea pushes passed him and opens the door to her room. Leaving it open as an offering to follow. He steps in and closes the door behind him with a loud squeak. She starts going through a chest of clothes. Making a disgusted face before tossing each one aside.
"The villagers have accused me of being insane," she whispers quietly. She stops going through her clothes. "Maybe I am..."
He kneels down beside her and puts his arm around her shoulders. Rhea stares at the dress clenched in her hands. "You're not insane. You have just been through a lot," he murmurs and leans over to put his chin on her head. "These people will never know what it's like to be you, unless they lived their lives exactly the same. Which is impossible. I am sure that whatever you told them is true."
"Thanks," she says gently, and she glances up at him. Wheels turning behind her eyes. "Isaac, I need your help with something."
~*~
Rhea held her breath as two men passed her, heading towards the Orphanage. She let out a sigh of relief. Checking her reflection in a nearby window, she smirks. People can be so simple-minded. Her hair is now cropped short in surprisingly neat layers. She thinks back to Isaac turning around while she dressed in his slightly oversized forest green pants and matching button down shirt. He was then allowed to turn his attention to her as she fitted a brown leather vest over her shoulders, completely hiding her chest. She gave him a big pair of dull scissors and his eyes flashed with grief before cutting off her long hair.

Isaac doesn't want Rhea to leave the village. To be honest she doesn't want to leave either. She finds comfort in the familiarity of it. She promised Isaac she would figure something out. She could get a job herding sheep at a farm, now that people see her as a young boy. When traveling youngsters came through town looking for work, there's almost always a small room they lend out for the employed.
She comes to the path leading up to a larger house with more breathing space then the others. She pays special attention to the sheep settled dangerously close to the forests edge. "Perfect." She thinks aloud.
~*~
A knock came at the door and Margaret shuffled to open it. A boy with frightening dark eyes stood in the doorway. "Are you here for work boy?" she asks hastily.
"Yes ma'am," he replies.
"Haven't seen you around before."
"I'm-"
"No need for a life story, I'll hire ya. I suspect you noticed the sheep on your way in. Job's simple. Keep them sheep from gettin' away and sheer em once in a while. I'll give you the room in the barn and some money at the end of the month. Room's nothin' special, and the amount depends on the workload, ya hear?" She scoffs.

"Yes ma-"
"You're to call me Lady Margaret. I don't want ya speaking to Patrick, my husband. He's in no mood for talk..." she grunts. "Get outta here now."
"Lady Margaret!" the boy shouts as she starts to close the door. She waits, tapping her foot on the floor impatiently. "Have you had any wolf problems?" He asks.
"How should I know? I don't count those sheep. That god forsaken dog has been lookin' after em. Surprised I have any left," Margaret mumbles, more to herself than to him. The door slams behind her, shaking the house.
~*~
Rhea was safe and content. She developed a plan quickly. The plan concerning her sanity, perhaps more for herself than anybody else. The barn room rests above some horse stalls on a loft. It smells of manure mostly. The scent is so strong it pollutes her lungs like thick black smoke. The bed is just a couple of bales of hay with an itchy blanket spread across the top. She lays down, ignoring the unpleasantness of it all and falls asleep.

Rhea wakes up when it's dark. She shivers from the sudden cold she feels on her neck. Despite Margaret's eagerness for a worker. She really doesn't want to stay here for long. The sheep are all asleep outside. Not even noticing the bite of the cold beneath their wool. Rhea feels a ping of jealousy for the animals. She calmly speaks to one and it's ears twitched as it wakes up. "Shhhh..." she whispers as it baas in complaint. She ties a rope around its neck and leads it towards the forest. Her heart hammering in her chest as she walks into the utter darkness of the trees.

Werewolves. That's what they are called. There are many different myths but one she counts on is that they hunt animals, and they come out at night... more often than not. Her plan went as far as seeing it again, using the sheep for bait. She tied the sheep to a tree and said farewell to it. Feeling a little guilty for its sacrifice. She hitches herself up a tree, and waits. Her eyes straining to see anything in this darkness. It doesn't take long, before she hears the soft breath of a predator. She swallows her fear and continues to search for movement.

All at once, a growl rips from the wolf's throat. The sound of bones snapping, and flesh tearing, almost makes Rhea sick to her stomach. She is surprised to see sunlight make its way into the sky. She gasps as she slowly begins to see the mad mess of blood on the ground. The sheep is so mutilated it's impossible to tell what it began as. It's organs are crushed beneath the wolf's huge paws. The bones scattered, with raw meat still clinging to them. She gasps and the wolf rises it's head when hearing the sound. The first thing it does is look directly into her eyes. Rhea has no choice but peer back into his. The wolf has the watery green eyes of a human. They stare at each other, and Rhea is not afraid. She thinks of the villagers sinking their grimy fingers into her clothing, and can cringe at that. But looking into these eyes, really looking into them. She feels brave. Maybe it is because it wouldn't hurt her, she doubts that. Maybe it's because she doesn't fear death like she fears being alone.

The wolf blinks first and bolts into the woods. Rhea leaps out of the tree, hissing at the pain it brought to her ankles and ran after it. Inside she knows she won't be able to catch it, but she still has to try. Now the sky is painted a soft orange from dawn. So she can see the blur of fur she chases. Soon she loses sight of it and she follows the sound of twigs snapping. It isn't long until the wolf was even out of ear shot. She stops. Sucking in as much air as her lungs could contain. That's when she hears that familiar sound. A growl of pain, slowly becoming a human shriek.
~*~
Isaac had just used a tree branches to help himself up into a standing position. His body aching and shaking from his moment of intense pain. He has to keep moving. Rhea was near. She can't see him now. "Isaac?" A voice calls out as if in pain. He turns around, his legs still wobbling. Her eyebrows pressed together in confusion. He wipes blood off his mouth with the back of his hand and ran his tongue along his blood covered teeth.

"Hello Rhea," Isaac says in a voice lined with razors. He can't help but feel anger in the pit in his stomach. Why can't Rhea leave it be? Why did she have to see him as a monster. Setting up that trap when he was so vulnerable. Isaac had just turned like this a week ago. Getting used to the hunger was bad enough. Getting used to the fact he just wasn't the same anymore was even worse. More so when the only one he truly cares about found him killing with no hesitance at all. Just like a monster.
"Enjoying yourself?" he sneers. Rhea stays silent. "Look, if you were going to be so absent when you found out, was there really a point? What are you going to do now? Tell everybody that I'm not human? Get them to run me out of the village?" he continues. Each question raising his voice with more anger and hurt. He is still shaking but now it isn't because of pain. He slinks toward her. Moving around her while tracing a line across her throat with his finger. When he's behind her, he leans so his mouth hovers beside her ear. "Your afraid, Rhea. Don't tell me you're not," he whispers. She swallowed loudly.

"Afraid?" she asks and her body shakes with laughter, "Isaac the werewolf. How entertaining." She turns to face him, her body almost directly pressed into his. "Now tell me, why are you so afraid?" she questions. His eyes narrow, trying to suppress the flow of want back into his skin.
"I could kill you so easily," he whispers. The anger vanishing with the flood of grief taking over.
A smile forms across her lips. "I'm not afraid of dying Isaac. What I'm afraid of is being alone," She admits. "I wouldn't be able to stand it, if you were gone."
He crosses his arms in front of his chest, controlling the urge to touch her. He doesn't want to ask her exactly what she meant by that. It will be painful to know if she just needs him as a friend, like family. So instead he chokes down the words he wants to say, reaches out, rests his hand on her shoulder, and forces a smile. "Thank you. That means a lot to me," he manages to say.
~*~
Isaac and Rhea walked into village square. The morning still settled on their skin. What Rhea had said is true. Isaac is needed. However, she doesn't know what kind of need that is. She can tell that behind all his talk Isaac wants her. Physically and emotionally. He looks at her the way her father looked at her mother. She had always admired the love her father had for her mother. Despite tradition, Rhea was raised by her father, barely staying at home. Her father was a woodcutter. She spent her childhood days sitting on a stump while her father hacked at trees with a large ax. He would tell her stories, and engrave values on her young mind. He told her that life was simple. People live and then they die. The only thing that changes that simple into something amazing, is you. Living in fear or in grief is a waste of a lifetime. His smile crinkled at his lips. "Rhea, if I'm ever gone. Don't cry. I will always be at your side. Even when I'm not. I am." He sat down beside her. "Do you believe me?"

Rhea snaps out her memory. She stands with Isaac beside the bakery. The street is smeared with blood. A girl, who she believes to be Mauve. A woman in her twenties, lays broken in the dirt. Her eyes are still open, and it terrifies Rhea to think of the last thing she saw before she died. Her head is mostly intact. Her hair is matted with blood from the single slice that splits her bottom eyelid in half and drags all the way down to the end of her severed head. Her body is torn apart, limbs strewn down the road. Her insides are missing. Rhea's mouth gapes open. She turns to Isaac, and glares at him. His eyes widen at the mess and then he snaps his eyes toward Rhea. "Rhea, No! It wasn't me!" He shouts in the silence. She gawks at his lie. She remembers the bloody massacre he made of the sheep and his sudden chilling anger right after he turned back. It was a wolf that did this. For that, she is certain.